Help Me
by fights
Summary: Prompt from sb kink. Smutty Slash Voyeurism. Superman/Batman


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_disclaimer: "ah do not own DC properties, ah do not!"_

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Help by Ol' Fighty

Prompt from sb_kink: Clark watches Bruce masturbate

Masturbation, Superman/Batman

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The cries of "please help me" were familiar now. Superman still struggled against the call, struggled not to save Bruce Wayne when the billionaire cried for help. The sound reached over regardless.

"Help, touch me," Bruce breathes deeply. He starts to pull at his belt. White teeth grinding. Yanking the leather strap loose and freeing it from his belt. A quick gesture undoes his pant button, hands darting the fly down, zipping open designer pants greedily. Amateurish hands grasping at his abdomen, rubbing his skin the way he wants to be touched. Filling the desire with imagination. Need driving Bruce to unbutton his white shirt starting at his navel, his moans drag out loudly. Eyes closed, he's into it. Into his fantasy. Wants to be touched so much that Bruce touches his bared chest himself, filling that aching void with his own hands. And Clark can only watch, listen on like every other night.

The white dress shirt ripples as each button is undone, revealing pale skin. Back against the wall, eyes half lid. He sits on his ass, knees bent. "Fuck. Touch me. Now."

"Tsch," Bruce takes in a deep breath as his eyes squeeze tighter, gathering up the nerve as if a he were a born again virgin. Finally, Clark exhales as Bruce's hands start to trail up and down his neck. The gruff, heroic hands run over his face. Fingers dragging sweat up his cheeks, the crease of his eyes. Bruce brushes his short, jet black hair behind his ears and then pulls it back down and nibbles on his finger. His pink tongue licking the salty sweat off his digits. Bruce opens his eyes slowly and the Kryptonian can't fight against the need to zoom in like a camera, fixated on those priceless blue eyes. Bruce tongue licks his lips again. "Ah, fuck—"

"--Fuck me." The sultry Gotham Prince manages desperately, his eyes are open but looking into something that doesn't, isn't, wouldn't be there. He looks into the nothing, as if it were a lover that had tortured him sexually for so long and licked his lips to taunt the imaginary beast. Bruce awakens sharply into the role, playing the wanton lover well. Pulling at his black slacks, dragging his heels on the floor popping off his shiny shoes. Gasping for air, god knows what he's thinking. Clark tries to read Bruce's body language and stumbles over the image as the billionaires curls in, sucking in the saliva that begins to pool in his mouth. The unclothed, dark knight speaks for him. "Yes, please. Fuck yes."

The slacks dangle from Bruce's straightened leg, his boxers were curled inside. Bruce's fingers began to nudge his cock awake, hand occasionally grabbing at something in his pant pocket absentmindedly. He doesn't bother to look, but his eyes seem to flicker as the tube rolls out. After two bats of one hand, Bruce scoops the tube into his palm, pops the cap and lets the tube's liquid run down the index and middle finger until the viscous fluid pooled in his left palm. The right hand borrows some of the liquid and then continues to move up and down his cock while the left moves down into the tightness of his anus. Bruce manages one finger, which Clark find himself leaning forward, wishing nothing more to burst through the walls of the hotel. When he finally presses against the right place, Bruce hisses 'yes' as if just winning a heated argument. A face that has become perverted in Clark's dark mind, warping any smile Batman has into the one that Bruce wears whet he finds that spot in his anus that makes him go wild.

"Yes," Bruce starts out small, but the words grow louder and more demanding, "yes, yes, Yes, Yes, YES, YES!—FUCK, YES! YES! Please."

"Please," he begs no one, but his hands obey instead, the grip of his dick changing motions and stroking concisely in full, proud strokes. His back and toes curl which each touch to that spot, his knees bend more because he has to, rather than wants to. Cornered into an angle secure, but awkward angle where one hand can reach his anus and the other hold his penis without the problem of falling over and bending his dick in the fall. Bruce's haunted voice continued to tease the Metropolis hero with his lusty cries, "TOUCH ME!"

"Any questions," Luthor asks the crowd. Eyes focusing on Clark's lack of focus. Lois nudges him, but he can't stop working because Bruce masturbates so prettily. Clark watches in the corner of his eye, exchanging glances with Lex Luthor to cool down his desire and Bruce, because he's unable to stop and never was able to. Finally Bruce comes to the sound of applause that rattles Clark's mind as his hearing is so turned up that he can hear every sound in Gotham and the sound of Bruce's ejaculate spurting from his cock and Bruce's cry of pleasure. Bruce collapses into his sleep and Clark can finally focus again although Lex is now leering at him funnily. Lois struts away, angry at his absentmindedness and Clark picks up his suitcase and rushes to his hotel room, quickly changes into Superman and flies to a place where Bruce's voice can no longer reach him.


End file.
